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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27971024">A Green-eyed Epiphany</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage'>Persiflage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mashed Up Tropes Fics [17]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Holby City</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, Coming Out, Drawing and Sketching, F/F, Jealousy, Mash-up, Massage, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Trope de Trope, Tumblr Prompt, art therapy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:40:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27971024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon Divergence: Alex Dawson's presence on AAU leads Serena to finally admit her feelings about Bernie to herself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mashed Up Tropes Fics [17]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Green-eyed Epiphany</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Anon for the Mashed Up Tropes Meme on Tumblr, for the tropes: 80. Green-Eyed Epiphany and 83. Intimate Artistry.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s not until Serena sees Bernie’s sketchbook that the truth finally dawns on her: she’s jealous of the trauma surgeon’s relationship with Alex Dawson. She has no business being jealous, of course. Bernie is her work colleague, nothing more. Well, maybe a little more – they are co-leads on AAU, after all, and Bernie’s her friend, too (more like her very best friend). But Alex Dawson is her former lover, and while Bernie has been very clear that they have not become lovers again (and now she thinks about it, Serena’s not sure just why Bernie had been so emphatic on the issue), Alex Dawson is still the woman who rescued Bernie after the IED blew up their vehicle. And Alex Dawson is currently portrayed in loving detail on more than half the pages in Bernie’s sketchbook. Some of them are even nudes. She swallows hard when she sees those, then shuts the book again, leaving it precisely where she found it – in Bernie’s desk drawer. Then she pulls out the stapler she’d gone looking for in the drawer, her own having chosen this moment to stop functioning, just when she has a large stack of paperwork that needs stapling.</p><p>Serena returns to her desk and slumps into the chair, then leans her elbows into her desk and covers her eyes with her hands, trying hard to block out the images she’s just seen. Because those images have reinforced to Serena that she absolutely cannot compete with Alex Dawson: she’s a decade older, a good deal chubbier, and completely lacking in heroic stature, too.</p><p>She doesn’t hear the door to the consultants’ office open and close, nor the light sound of a cup of coffee from Pulses being set down on her desk. In fact, it’s only when Bernie speaks that she realises she’s no longer alone and she startles badly at the trauma surgeon’s greeting.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Bernie says, reaching out to gently squeeze Serena’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I brought you a coffee, and it looks like it’s just as well that I did. You look in need of a caffeine jolt.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Serena says, reaching for the cup with gratitude. “How’d it go?”</p><p>Bernie has been in theatre for the last several hours repairing the damage to both of the legs of a young woman motorcyclist. Alex had been her anaesthetist. They’d gone into theatre while Serena was busy finishing up a somewhat complicated vascular repair, otherwise she’d have scrubbed in with Bernie. She takes any and all opportunities to operate with the trauma surgeon because she is a joy to work with: they are able to communicate wordlessly, passing each other whatever’s needed or holding bits of internal organs out of the other’s way without any need to request it. And on top of that, Bernie is just incredibly skilled and keeps her cool when other, lesser, surgeons might not. She might be fifty one, but she’s at the top of her game, the absolute peak of perfection, and anyone who works with her can learn a lot from her. And the wonderful thing is that Bernie loves teaching others, and while she has immense confidence in her skills, she’s not arrogant about them. It’s true that she believes she’s always right and some surgeons, especially the men, might construe that as arrogance, but it’s not. Because Bernie usually is right.</p><p>“We got it done,” Bernie says, slumping into her chair with a sigh. “It got a bit touch and go in there for a few minutes, but luckily Alex was there, and she got the young woman sorted out.” She takes a slurp of her own coffee. “I’m pretty sure the patient will actually walk again. But I wouldn’t recommend she resumes riding a motorbike.”</p><p>Serena nods, doing her absolute best to ignore the spike of jealousy she feels when Bernie praises Alex.</p><p>“How did your procedure go? Get all those veins knitted back together?” There’s a teasing lilt in the blonde’s voice as she asks the question, but Serena knows she’s only being teased because she’s in awe of Serena’s surgical skills when it comes to all things vascular.</p><p>“Yes, thanks. A bit of tricky work a time or two, but yes, I got Mr Henderson’s repairs done.”</p><p>“Well done.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>They drink their coffees in a warm, companionable silence, both leaning back comfortably in their chairs, and Serena decides that she’s not going to say anything to Bernie about her sketchbook: it’s personal and private, and she’d no business looking at it. Honestly, it’s almost as bad as if she’d read Elinor’s diary.</p><p>“Have you been in my drawer?” Bernie asks, frowning at said drawer, then tugging it out a little before pushing it back again.</p><p>The question startles Serena and it takes her a moment to compose herself in order to answer. “Yes, sorry. My stapler went kaput, so I dug yours out to borrow.</p><p>“Oh.” Bernie’s voice is flat and unhappy. “Did you look at my sketchbook?”</p><p>“I took it out to find the stapler. Honestly, Bernie, I know you like to rebel against all those years of Army discipline by making your environment untidy, but I do think you could manage to keep your desk drawers a bit more organised.”</p><p>“Don’t deflect the question, Serena. Did you look at my sketchbook?”</p><p>Serena feels her shoulders slump. “Yes,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have looked. It’s personal and you’re entitled to your privacy.”</p><p>“So why did you?”</p><p>“I was curious. I didn’t realise you could draw.”</p><p>“I took it up a few years ago – art therapy to help when I was having a particularly bad go of it with PTSD.”</p><p>“You’ve caught Alex’s likeness very well.”</p><p>Bernie stares at her, silent and hunched. “You know we’re not together, don’t you?”</p><p>“Yes, you said before. Although I’m not sure why you’re telling me. You don’t need my permission to date someone.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Before they can continue the conversation there’s a brisk knock at the half open door, and Raf sticks his head around it. “Ms Wolfe? There’s a young woman here to see you.”</p><p>Bernie gives him a surprised look, then swallows the remains of her coffee before pushing herself to her feet and following him. Her shoulders are slumped, and Serena can tell, as she watches her walk away, that her back is hurting. She feels irritated with herself for not realising that Bernie would likely be in pain after spending hours bent over carrying out complicated surgery. She wonders if Bernie would accept if she offered her a back rub. She suspects not, at least not right now. </p><p>She turns back to her paperwork, determined not to allow herself to follow Bernie with her eyes, and focuses on getting through the stack of files and forms needing her attention. She does not give in to her impulse to throw her stapler across the room, its demise being the reason why she and Bernie are currently at odds.</p><p>She’s been working for about thirty minutes when the office door opens and she glances up, then sits up and stares at the sight of Bernie ushering in a young woman who can only be her daughter, Charlotte.</p><p>“Serena, this is my daughter, Charlie. Charlotte.” </p><p>She grimaces slightly as she corrects herself, then lights up when her daughter clasps her wrist and says, “Charlie is fine, mum, I promise.”</p><p>“But Marcus –”</p><p>Charlie waves her off. “I don’t like it when dad calls me ‘Lottie’,” she says. “Charlie is fine.”</p><p>“You’re more than fine,” Bernie says, in a rare burst of sentimentality that makes Serena smile.</p><p>“Get on with you,” Charlie says, pushing at her mum’s arm.</p><p>“It’s lovely to meet you, Charlie. Would you like to sit down?” Serena asks, and the young woman grins at her.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“So, what brings you into the hospital, may I ask?”</p><p>“I wanted to see mum,” Charlie explains. “I – well, I don’t know if she’s told you, but I was a bit of a bitch to her when she first told us that she’s a lesbian and that she and dad were getting a divorce. It wasn’t the lesbian bit, honestly.” Charlie grips Bernie’s arm as the trauma surgeon sits down beside her in the other guest chair. </p><p>“I’m glad to hear that,” Bernie says quietly. “Though I did hope it wasn’t, since your dad and I didn’t bring you and Cam up to be bigots.”</p><p>“No, I’m not. I – um – I think I’m probably bisexual, actually, mum.” She gives a watery laugh. “You and Serena are the first people I’ve told.”</p><p>Serena swallows hard at the scene that’s unfolding before her. She thinks she ought to leave but Bernie and Charlie are between her and the door, and she really doesn’t want to interrupt since she knows that Charlie’s distance has been hurting Bernie, for all that she hasn’t discussed it.</p><p>“Thank you for telling me, Charlie. It means a lot to me that you feel able to tell me.”</p><p>Serena directs a smile at the pair when Charlie looks over at her. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Ms Campbell, you didn’t ask for this.”</p><p>Serena shakes her head. “It’s fine, Charlie. Thank you for sharing with me.” </p><p>Charlie smiles back, then half turns towards her mum. “You two should come for a drink after you finish your shift.”</p><p>“Wh-with you?” Bernie asks, her obvious surprise making her stutter a little.</p><p>“Yeah, of course with me.”</p><p>“I – well, um – I –” Somewhat helplessly the trauma surgeon glances at Serena, who gives a brief nod. “Okay. Thank you. we’d like that.”</p><p>“Very much,” Serena puts in, wanting them both to know that she wants to be there too, if Charlie wants her to come.</p><p>“Good. So, see you in, <i>Albie's</i> is it, the place across the road?”</p><p>“Yes, it’s <i>Albie's</i>. All things being equal, we’ll be finished at 6pm, so we’ll see you shortly after that,” Serena says. “But if she doesn’t already have it, give your mum your number so we can text you if an emergency comes in.”</p><p>“Does that happen a lot?” Charlie asks, taking Bernie’s phone from her when she holds it out.</p><p>“Sometimes,” Bernie says, pecking away at Charlie’s phone. “We’ve sometimes ended up staying the night here because of a trauma emergency.”</p><p>“Okay. Well I’ll keep my fingers crossed that you don’t get a last minute emergency.”</p><p>Bernie smiles at her. “Thanks, love.”</p><p>“I should let you get back to it,” Charlie says. “See you later.”</p><p>“Looking forward to it,” Bernie says.</p><p>“Me too,” agrees Serena.</p><p>They stand up and Serena smiles when Charlie throws her arms around her mother. “I know you’re not very tactile, mum, but –”</p><p>“It’s fine, love. I will never turn down a hug from you. And anyway, I think I’m doing a bit better about being tactile. Trying to, anyway.”</p><p>Charlie pulls back, pecks Bernie on the cheek, then goes back out onto the ward. </p><p>To Serena’s surprise, the trauma surgeon sits back down in the guest chair alongside her desk, instead of returning to her own desk.</p><p>“Would you rather I didn’t come this evening?” Serena asks quietly.</p><p>Bernie gives her a blank look. “Of course not. Charlie’s invitation was for us both.”</p><p>“I know,” she says quietly. “I just don’t want to get in the way, particularly when you and Charlie have literally only just re-established contact with each other.”</p><p>Bernie shakes her head. “Unless you genuinely don’t want to be there, then I’d like you to come with me. Please.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“And about before – I’m sorry I got mad at you.”</p><p>“Well, I’m even sorrier for snooping. I had no business prying. Looking at your sketchbook’s practically the equivalent of reading someone’s diary.”</p><p>“I’m guessing you didn’t look at the whole thing?”</p><p>Serena frowns at her. “It was half full of sketches of Alex Dawson,” she says.</p><p>Bernie shakes her head, then gets up and opens her desk drawer, takes the book out and sits back on the guest chair nearest to Serena’s desk. “Here,” she says, and opens the book from the back.</p><p>Serena glances at her and getting a nod, looks down at the open page before her, then swallows as she sees that there are half a dozen small, incomplete sketches of herself: they’re all of her head and shoulders, some dipping as low as her cleavage. In a couple she’s in her scrubs, seen face on or in profile, while in three of the other four she’s in her casual clothes. The sixth sketch shows no sign of clothing at all and definitely shows her décolletage. </p><p>“Turn the page,” Bernie whispers.</p><p>Serena obeys, then gasps, clapping a hand to her mouth to silence her shock as she sees a full length sketch of herself across the double page of the sketchbook. She’s nude and Bernie seems to have managed to capture her curves pretty well given that she’s never yet seen Serena naked.</p><p>“Come back to mine for dinner,” she says, feeling heat in her face, but feeling a greater heat elsewhere in her body. “I think we should talk.”</p><p>“What about Charlie?” asks Bernie, her anxiety about losing this opportunity to spend time with her daughter obvious.</p><p>“We can have dinner after we’ve met up with Charlie.” She manages to smile. “I promise you, I’ll never try to get in the way of your relationship with your children – either of them.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Serena shakes her head. “Will you let me give you a back rub?”</p><p>Bernie sighs. “I didn’t like to ask,” she says.</p><p>“Bernie, you can always ask me for that, or anything else. There’s very little I wouldn’t give you.”</p><p>The blonde’s smile is small and tremulous, but she gets up, turns the chair around, then sits down facing away from Serena and resting her forearms along the top of the chair upon which she’s seated the wrong way around.</p><p>Serena clasps her shoulders, digging her thumbs into the knotted muscles she finds there, and Bernie groans softly.</p><p>“Oh god, Serena, that feels so good. I swear you’ve got magic hands.”</p><p>She chuckles. “Thank you. I think.”</p><p>“It’s a good thing,” Bernie assures her. “Just – please don’t stop.”</p><p>“Not yet, no,” Serena agrees.</p><p>After ten minutes Bernie’s gone positively limp in her chair and Serena’s hands are aching.</p><p>“Better?” she asks softly.</p><p>“Much,” Bernie agrees with a sigh. </p><p>Serena pulls her hands from under the trauma surgeon’s scrub top, then briefly squeezes her shoulders, before moving back to her own desk, and after a few more minutes, Bernie straightens up, then picks up her sketchbook and moves to her own desk. She puts the sketchbook in her satchel, then returns that rather battered leather item to its spot in the bottom drawer of her desk.</p><p>Serena returns to her paperwork and Bernie, who normally loathes paperwork, settles down to do her own.</p><p>Serena does her best to ignore the thrum of excitement she feels at the prospect of spending time with Bernie, the woman who has been sketching her in secret. She doesn’t know exactly how Bernie feels, but she’s quite sure of herself, now – she wants Berenice Wolfe, possibly more than she’s ever wanted another person before. It ought to be scary, wanting another woman, but she finds it’s not, probably because it’s Bernie, to whom she’s already entrusted half her ward and to whom she believes she can also safely entrust her whole heart.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally posted <a href="https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/630225494247456768/its-me-again-can-i-get-80-and-83-im-interested">here</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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